


Infinite Errors

by Detroitbydark



Series: Crossed Connections Universe [2]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Edging, F/M, Hurt, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Sex Work, Unplanned Pregnancy, assholes being assholes, smut for the sake of smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:48:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23811841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Detroitbydark/pseuds/Detroitbydark
Summary: A series of pieces focusing on the things we say and the things we don't -or- Crosshair doesn't see it coming until it's too late.
Relationships: Crosshair/OC
Series: Crossed Connections Universe [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664725
Comments: 21
Kudos: 71





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm archiving this series originally post on my Tum blr I'm going to attempt to place all of the pieces, posted out of order, into some sort of organized timeline. wish me luck

“You broke his kriffing nose!”

“I figured you’d say _thank you_ ” Crosshair shrugs looking at the man laying at his feet, blood forming in a pool around his slack mouth “or at least be a little more concerned that he’s gone sleepy sleepy on you.”

The petite woman in front of him toes at the unconscious man, her expression grim, before turning on him with poorly concealed rage. She cocks her hip to the side, arms crossing her chest. She’s fuming. She’s pissed.

She’s kinda cute.

“He was my _date_ ” the little woman snarls, brow arched pointedly.

Crosshair zones out for a second as she growls at him. He likes the way she has her hair pulled back, blue-black in an intricate series of braids and knots. Chic. Fancy.

“Uh, _hello_?”

He rolls his eyes hard under the safety of his helmet as he crosses his arms mirroring her. If she wanted to play incensed he could go along with this game all night.

“You say your date but you could have fooled me by the way he was yanking you around.”

He hadn’t meant to get involved. He’d been killing time waiting for his guy to get in contact with him. He was in serious need of some upgrades to his baby and the ones he wanted weren’t exactly regulation. It’s the only reason he was on this fragging level to begin with.

He hadn’t meant to stumble on the pair of them, the banthashit scum with his hand wrapped around the woman’s upper arm, dragging her toward an alley. He’d even hesitated, knowing it wouldn’t do him any good getting involved. Than she’d stumbled in her stupidly high heels and she’d made a high-pitched wounded sound as the son of a bitch had twisted her arm.

He couldn’t help it.

Really.

One minute he was standing to the side and the next he was _intervening_.

Crosshair fights off a wave of amusement as the woman stalks up to him and jabs a well manicured finger against the plastoid of his chest plate.

“He. Was. My. Date.” She punctuates each word with a jab. Her black polished nail clicks each time she does. He watches curiously as she draws back and procures something from her handbag. With an exasperated sigh she flashes her identi-card. The emblem of the _Companions_ _Guild_ is very clear.

Oh.

OH.

He takes a half step back, hands going up in front of him.

“I didn’t realize I was interrupting a business transaction.” He offers quickly, rubbing at the back of his neck.

She sighs roughly and glances back at the man who, while breathing, still hasn’t woken. Her brows knit as she pinches the space between them.

He did feel bad. He wasn’t about taking credits out of people’s pockets. Still, even knowing what he now knows he would knock the guy out again. Whether that was her job or not, that’s not how you treated a lady.

She nudges her pointed toe against the would-be client’s stomach, making a disgusted sound when he doesn’t respond. Crosshair uses her inattentiion to openly admire the deep red painted lips pressed into a firm line and the flush of color high on her cheeks. She takes a deep breath and than lets her eyes travel back to his helmeted head.

“You know? Whatever” she says the the level above. Some of the fight has drained out of her and he watches as she rubs her arm absently, “you probably did me a favor anyway, right?”

Crosshair shrugs as she turns her mossy eyes to him, “did you get paid yet?”

“Of course not! Do you think I’d care if I did?”

Crosshair shrugs again. “Sorry?”

Dark-rimmed eyes narrow at him “No you’re r not.” She says pointedly.

“I’m not.” He confirms.

She snorts, something akin to a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth “at least you’re honest”

The trooper shrugs, “I’ve got my charms”

“Have you got credits?”

He does a double take, takes in the bat of her lashes that wasn’t there a minute ago and the way she hold her shoulders back ever so slightly, drawing focus to her…

“Whoa ma’am-“

“Omari.” She offers.

“Ok, Omari, I’ve got places to be and” he gives her a quick look, scanning from her glossy hair to the tips of her ridiculous heels. “Honestly, you’re a little out of my price range.”

It seems to be the right answer because Omari seems to preen at the insight.

“Most definitely” she coos laying her palm flat against his chest and running the other down his arm. “But I could, maybe give you a discount. My way of _supporting_ the war effort?”

It’s been a hot minute since he’s been with a woman and the thought is appealing.

“Come on Trooper-“

“Crosshair” he offers without thought.

“That’s a nice name Crosshair, might be fun to scream later” she offers a pretty pout “unless you don’t want me to make my rent this month?”

She’s laying it on thick and he is all for it, blood already shunting to his groin at the thought of her full lips stretched around him.

He doesn’t fight her as she slips to his side and loops her arms into his. He glances at her date as he lets out a low groan.

“What about him?”

At his side, Omari shrugs “he’s going to be reported to the guild and put on the blacklist. _Very_ exclusive, the blacklist” she hums.

God she sounded like an evil bitch and Crosshair thanks the Maker for his good luck, letting her begin to lead him around the narrow isles and alleys of the level.

“I feel like this is the beginning of something beautiful” he snarks.

“Don’t push your luck.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turnabout is fair play or that one time Omari saved Crosshair’s ass.

Omari Cean had grown up deep in the bowels of Coruscant’s lower levels. From an age she now has a hard time ever believing she was, she’d learned to survive by any means necessary. Sometimes it felt as if she’d been born and instantly thrown into the life and death struggle the lower levels bred. Maybe that’s how it had been. Her parents were long gone now, dead or imprisoned (she didn’t particularly care either way) and she had no one to ask. The dark, stagnant under levels were a nursery that reared two types of individuals, the strong and the broken. 

She knew who she was and didn’t mind showing anyone the tough as durasteal persona she’d painfully cultivated. When she was in public she carried her head high.

She made it out. 

She was strong. 

She adapted and learned, not merely survive but to thrive. 

The looks she gets now as she walks through Coco Town prove it. She’s not wearing anything near as nice as she preferred because, even in the nicer districts she knew the point was to look good enough to turn heads but not place a target on one’s back. 

She’d spent her afternoon being pampered and prepped. A regular client from off-world would be taking her to a party tomorrow. In preparation she’d been to have her nails done. This client preferred his girls sleek and chic and she aimed to please. Her nails were sharpened to a point, the tips black as soot the rest a soft grey. Her hair had been done also, the dark inky locks were glossy and full, ready for waves to be added before the event . As always, her skin remained pale and flawless, a blessing of genetics and good skin care regime. Her client preferred dark neutrals and while she found it strange it was her idea to question her preferred color palette when his patronage paid her bills. 

A glance in the reflective transparisteel Of the building building she passes shows the antithesis of the young girl that had once taken a man up on his offer of “credits for company”. That girl, the hungry scared waif she’d once been, was now long gone. In her place was a woman who knew her value, a woman who knew her trade and excelled at it. She’d never be the girl the Chancellor called on but that was ok. She could provide for herself in a way that no man ever could and no man would ever be her keeper.

She catches the eye of a passing pair of businessmen. One blushes while the other openly stares. She raises an eyebrow. As he walks by she can feel his gaze follow her.

Predictable. 

Men like him were easy. Men like him wanted to have a pretty girl on their arm at dinner and then sweat over her for a couple minutes before unceremoniously blowing a load.

Men like him paid the bills with little fuss or effort on her part. 

A herd of children, familiar only because she’d once been one of their ranks, amble past and she pulls her pocketbook from her side, covering it with the palm of her hand. She hears the disappointed sounds of the little pick pockets as they pass. She knew the games children like them played.

She turns after a few steps and lets out a low whistle. Three scruffy heads turn sharply in her direction while the rest keep on their way. Mari catches the eye of the small gir nestled between the near identical boys. She’s dirty from head to toe with matted hair and hollow cheeks but, oh her eyes! They’re still alert and assessing. 

“Come here” 

The children stop, the girl looking to the boys on her right and left and then points at herself with an expression so bewildered it’s nearly comical.

“Yes. You! Come here” Mari demands again as the boys give their friend a shove in her direction. The child moves cautiously, never taking her eyes off the older woman. 

Smart girl.

When she’s an arms length away Mari reaches in her hand bag. It had been a good week and she could afford to dole out hope, even if that only meant enough credits for a hot meal. 

“Give me your hand” 

The child hesitates again, flinching back as Mari grabs her wrist. She relaxes as soon as she sees the credits her captor flashes. She flips her hand over as Mari lets loose. This close, the child’s eyes stand out, bright blindingly blue against her grubby complexion. 

“You take these and share them with your boys.” She says loud enough so the boys can hear as she deposits the credits in the dirty upturned palm. She moves in closer and speaks again only for the girl to hear. She slides another few credits into the cuff of the girls ragged shirt. 

“These ones you keep for yourself. You hear me?” 

The girl’s nod is almost imperceptible but the smile she gives is thankful.

They don’t say anything more. Mari never knows the girl’s name. The girl never says thank you. They don’t need the words. For a moment they understood one another.

As the children run off, heads close together as they chatter about what to do with their new found credits, Mari can’t help but smile. 

Then her stomach rumbles and she remembers why she was in this particular area of Coco Town. 

Dex’s. 

As a child she’d seen the signs proclaiming Dex’s Diner to have ‘The best grub in Coco Town’. The illustrated image of a burger larger than her head, with a heaping helping of protatos steaming next to it had been mesmerizing. She’d dreamed about it for ages after, trying to pretend that was what she was eating when she’d choke down whatever scraps she’d manage to scrounge up. It was a fantasy her childish mind indulged in, her pot of credits at the end of the rainbow.

The first time Mari ever made a few credits, enough that she was able to pay her boarding and have a handful left to her name, she’d gone to Dex’s. 

Now, if she were to tell anyone the best thing she’d ever eaten had been the greasy, cheap hunk of meat and secret sauce sandwiched between two buns they were likely to look at her like she was moon-brained but it had been. She’d spent every last credit at the greasy spoon, sitting among the working class Coco-ites humming happily as grease ran over her hands with each bite she took and enjoying the way the hot wedges of protato burned her tongue as she shoveled them in.

Dex’s was a happy place for her and while she didn’t go often, choosing her figure over her appetite, she still splurged on occasion.

When she rounds the corner she sees a handful of clone troopers milling about the entrance. They laugh loudly with one another, helmets under arms or resting next to booted feet as they ate and enjoyed the warm sun spilling across the ground. As she gets closer she sees one trooper look at another and motion towards her, not slick in the slightest, but endearing in the way the others eyes go large and he smiles sheepishly. Another puts two fingers into his mouth and whistles. 

She offers up a flirtatious smile as she gets to the door. 

“Hey, beautiful” she turns her head. Another sidles up next to her as she reaches for the handle. His hand grabs it just before she does and she looks up with a questioning look. The helmet under his arm looks back at her with the face of an animal painted on in a neat, rusted red brown paint.

“Hello” she offers politely. 

He’s attractive. She had yet to meet a clone that wasn’t. Like the others he has got soft brown eyes that would make any girl swoon and a jawline so sharp you could cut yourself on it. Also, like the other clones he did everything in his power to separate himself from his brothers. His hair is styled into a pair of stripes that move from the front of his head to the back. It looks good on him. Too bad for him she didn’t do the whole ‘dating’ thing.

“Did it hurt?” he asks suddenly and she almost laughs because he’s trying hard and she’s pretty sure she knows what he’s going to say next.

“Did what hurt?” 

“When you fell from Cloud City?”

Mari purses her lips, raises a brow as if to ask _is that the best you’ve go_ t? The trooper shoots her an impish smile.

“I’ve got a whole arsenal of them, if you wanna be my Na-boo, I can share every last one.”

She does laugh at that and he gives her a hopeful look. She lets him down lightly with a pat on his plastoid covered arm.

“You’re cute but you’re not my type.” 

He rubs at the back of his head and offers a shrug as he pulls the door open for her, “You can’t blame a guy for trying.” 

The diner itself is so crowded with troopers that it’s no wonder they’ve spilled into the street. She wonders idly if it was Fleet Week and she missed the memo. 

Dex’s is standing room only and the temperature has got to be at least 10 degrees warmer with all the bodies snugged so close together. She regrets the leather jacket she’d decided to wear but doesn’t have the room to take it off. She reminds herself that it’ll be worth it once she’s got the greasy goodness in her hands. The line moves slow and she passes the time by listening to those around her. It’s the regular banter, nothing much to write home about. Until she hears that voice.

There’s a ripple of excitement through the gathered crowd as a pair of voices rise above the rest, loud and angry and male. The armored bodies around her seem to push in closer together though they seem to be cognizant of her smaller frame in their ranks and keep a respectable distance. At very least they don’t crush her. 

The air grows thick with anticipation and she listens intently for the next volley.

“-And I said back off, _Reg_ ”

She knows that voice. It’s smooth gravel and cadence is unmistakable. 

“Whatcha gonna do about it?”

Mari squirms between bodies encased in armor. She gets looks but as soon as they see it’s not one of their brothers jockeying for position they allow her through unscathed. When she reaches the front of the line she sees that her instincts were correct. She recognizes the armor. Intimately. The skull insignia, the distinct shape of the helmet, and it’s paint job that matched the wearer’s tattoo.

Crosshair is bowed up just a foot from the register with another trooper so close their helmets nearly kiss one another. The waitress droid behind the counter looks completely over whatever issue the two seem to be having as she stalks back, presumably to grab Dex to break the foolishness up.

“I’m wearing my armor just like anyone of you. I think you know what I’m capable of” Crosshair’s voice is low and full of promise. Mari can see his fingers fan then clench as his hand balls into a fist at his side. He stumbles back a half step when the other troopers hands come up and push against his chest. 

“You’re not one of us. You shouldn’t be allowed to be called a trooper. You’re just an anomaly playing dress-up.” The other trooper snarls, helmet turning from side to side looking at the few nodding camrades he has flanking him.

It isn’t that she feels she _owes_ him. No. She doesn’t feel she owed him one bit from the night they first met. She just wants her karking bantha burger and these two idiots were going to ruin it for her. At least that’s what she tells herself as she slides in between the two. 

“Hey handsome” she greets. Crosshair’s helmet dips back minutely at her sudden appearance. “I thought you would be done by now.” She scolds lightly. Crosshair’s body goes rigid as she presses against his chest, nails clicking along his chest plate. So little space is between the two troopers that she can feel the heat radiating off the one behind her. 

“I-”he begins as Mari turns to the man behind her.

“He was supposed to bring me lunch ages ago.” She explains. The crackle of tension in the air has been dulled by her sudden appearance. She turns back to Crosshair. She can feel a dozen pairs of eyes on her as she rises up on the tip of her boots. She places a soft kiss on the side of the trooper’s helmet. 

“I worked up such an _appetite_ this morning” she purrs just loud enough to be heard. She glances over at the human waitress, Hermione her name tag says. “I hope he ordered three bantha burgers all the way and two large protatos?” 

Hermione glances at an order and jots the extras in. She gives Mari a knowing look. 

“Oh yeah, sweetheart. You got a good one here. Super thoughtful.” 

Crosshair glances down at her, cocking his head slightly.

“You mean to tell me,” the voice of the trooper behind her interrupts anything the sniper may say “that you and this abomination are…?” He lets the question trail off.

“Oh baby _are we ever_.” She laughs glancing over her shoulder and watching as his eyes trail over her coat and dip to the sea of flat stomach between the bottom of her cropped top and the belt of her pants.

“You know what they say, once you go clone…” She shoots him a wink as Crosshair’s hand falls to her hip squeezing sharply before sliding under her coat and resting on the bare skin of her waist.

“Actually, I don’t know.” The trooper’s voice is tight.

“Oh-“ Mari looks him up and down. His armor was pristine, no modifications, no scuffs or customization. Shiny. 

“I suppose you wouldn’t” she says letting her tongue dance along the sharp edge of her teeth before disappearing behind a knowing smile. “Maybe someday?”

“Easy Kitten.” Crosshair murmurs, bucket close and modulated voice ghosting against the shell of her ear. she fights back the shiver it causes. “Put the claws away.”

“Yes sir” she purrs looking up and seeing how his visor focuses on the trooper across from him.

“Suge-“ The waitress droid, Flo, interrupts. “Your order is ready.”

Mari gives Crosshair a pointed look as she slips from his grasp, “come on handsome, pay the droid and let’s go. I think we left something _turned on_ at my place.”

The sniper hesitates for a moment and, with an almost imperceptible sigh, he pulls out more credits then he obviously had planned on spending and pays the bill. 

Mari takes the bag with a gracious smile. She jumps slightly when Crosshair’s gloved hand falls to her lower back and begins guiding her through the crowd of whispering clones.

“Aren’t you going to say _bye_ to your new friend?” she teases, earning a chuckle.

“See you around, _Reg_ ” the marksman throws over his shoulder lazily. 

Mari steals a protato wedge from the bag. It’s still hot. She moans quietly as she takes a bite and tastes the salted, greasy goodness of it all. Crosshair’s hand flexes and a trooper close makes a broken sound somewhere in his throat. 

“Save the rest for home, Kitten. Don’t wanna spoil your appetite.”

She exits Dex’s while the marksman holds the door for her. The trooper from earlier is staring openly. 

“You looking at something?” Crosshair snaps behind her.

“Uhh- no- uhh I…”

Mari gives him a wink as she’s guided away from the gathered cadre of troopers.

——-

“What was that?” 

They’ve walked in silence for nearly a block, Crosshair’s hand no longer on her but his body still close.

“What was what?”

“Don’t play dumb.” Crosshair’s voice is low, his visor fixed forward on a point in the distance, further down the street, “I didn’t need your help.”

Mari’s laugh comes out in a dark huff, “really? I didn’t see any faces in there that seemed like they’d jump to your defense. The opposite is more likely. You’re not an easy man to like, I feel.”

They make it another block, the trooper brooding silently at her side, before he speaks again.

“So we’re going to your place?”

They’ve already come to the lift. There the only two to board as Mari keys in her level. 

“If you want. You could actually sit and enjoy the food instead of inhaling it on the fly.” She offers. “I know I’m actually going to take the time enjoy to my burger.”

“Burger? You ordered three?”

Mari shrugs, “I figured you could stand to eat more. I might steal a bite though.”

Crosshair grumbles unintelligibly. He’s still tense, spine ramrod straight. Head focused on the lift gate in front of them. She doesn’t need to see his face to know he’s still got adrenaline pumping through his veins at the near altercation, his body still primed and ready for action.

“After, if you want, maybe you could work through a bit of that energy on me.” 

He stops short at the offer, helmet moving on a slow swivel.

“How much is that going to cost me?”

He’s already decided that he was going to take her up on the offer. She can hear the underlying husk to his voice. She’d be lying if she said thinking about another go with him didn’t do something to her. Last time had been- eye opening.

“Well, since you bought me lunch. I suppose we can work out some kind of discount.”

She laughs out loud as his body turns into her, the bag of food falling to her side. His hand slides up her arm and circles gently around her neck. Her eyes flutter shut and her breath catches as his fingers gently grip at the sides of her throat.

“Think you can handle me, do you?”

Mari takes his wrist in her hand. She locks eyes with his helmet as she brings each finger to her lips and plants a soft kiss on the gloved tips.

“I can handle everything you’ve got, Handsome. First food and then I can be your good little- what was the name? Ah yes,” she coos “your good little Kitten”.

———

The food is cold by the time they get to it but still just as satisfying as it had ever been.


	3. Chapter 3

“Stop! I’m too close…” 

Crosshair smirks as the woman in his arms cries out desperately. He slides his fingers away from her dripping center. They lazily stroke the inside of her thigh as she pants and squirms.

“Hold still.” He orders gruffly, giving her inner thigh sharp swat. Mari gasps out his name but holds still in his grip. He’d been teasing her for hours now, edging her relentlessly, and he was again impressed by her.

“Please, I can’t take anymore…” she whispers. Her back is pressed against his chest and her knees fall on either side of his own legs. He wishes he could see her in a mirror, spread wide open for his delving fingers, thighs painted in her own slick arousal, and impaled on his cock. 

That was a new bit of torture he’d decided to add and he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t before. She made the perfect little sheath for his cock.

He’d been hard as a rock since entering her. That paired with the press of her body against his and her relinquishment of control had left him almost uncomfortably so. 

He snaps his hips lazily once just to hear her cry out and ease a small amount of his own tension.

Her body is coiled so tight, he can see the muscles of her neck straining. It wouldn’t take but a few strokes of his thumb over her clit to have her falling apart around him- but he won’t. She wasn’t ready yet. 

Just a little bit more.

His sweet Kitten could take everything he gave her, even if she didn’t realize she could just yet. He would show her what she was capable of in his hands.

Mari’s dark hair is piled high on her head in a mess of waves and pins. Her skin is flushed and glistening with perspiration. She’s all but glowing in the low light spilling in from the lone window. 

Crosshair strokes her body tenderly, moving from her thighs and working up her body until her muscles begin to relax under his touch. A bead of sweat rolls free from her hairline and Crosshair lets his eyes trace its path until he can’t help but lean in and lick it off. Her skin is salty and sweet under the flat of his tongue as he trails it back up. His mouth pauses at the tender spot behind her ear before he nips at it lazily. She trembles and he can feel her cunt flutter desperately.

“Please, baby... I can’t”.

“Hush” he chides “what color?” He questions as his hands roam over her belly and up to cup her breasts. She arches as his fingers slide over her nipples, strains in his grasp for more of his touch.

“Omari” he orders turning her head and capturing her lips in a soft kiss, “give me your color”

“Green” it’s barely a whisper but it’s enough for him to hear. He grins down at her forest eyes nearly black with lust. She was perfect. Absolutely perfect and, all his, at least for the night. He ignores the feeling that lingers in his chest as he memorizes the way she looks in the moment.

“Remember what I said…?” His voice is low and silken as he asks. Her eyes flutter shut and he watches her dark lashes as they contrast against her skin.

He doesn’t chastise at the small circle he feels her hips making, merely grabs a hold of a hip with one hand, letting his fingertips sink in until she stops.

“Obedient girls take their edging” she confirms, voice ragged and soft. His free hand reaches to circle her throat, barely touching.

“And?”

“And then they get their rewards.” She murmurs as he puts the lightest amount of pressure against her windpipe.

“That’s right Kitten. You’re being such an obedient girl. You’ve already taken five. I think two more and then you can cum?”

She makes a desperate sound, more animal than human. He thrusts his hips slow and shallow as her head falls back against his shoulder.

“Think you can do that for me?”


	4. Chapter 4

“Where do you wander off to?” Tech asks the questions that everyone has been thinking. Lights flash across a secondary console as he finishes preflight prep.

“Wheels up in five, Tech” Hunter informs as he and Wrecker squeeze into the cockpit.

“Should have no problems with that Sarge” the engineer agrees, moving to the next panel and slowly flipping on switches. The vibration of the engines spooling up can be felt in the durasteel floor grates.

Crosshair glares at Tech. Hunter and Wrecker are looking at the sniper with curiosity, having caught the tail end of the question.

“Ahh, Tech don’t you know, Cross here, finds a nice dark space and whispers sweet nothings to his rifle.”

Crosshair fights the urge to spit, instead chewing more at his toothpick.

“Grow up, Wrecker.” He growls turning toward Tech, “I don’t _wander_ and I’m certainly capable of finding more warm-bodied company than Sweetie.”

Wrecker snickers, he can’t help it. Since he’d found out Crosshair had named his DC-15 Sweetie it was just to hard not too.

“Well where do you go, out of curiosity” it’s Hunter this time. He’d never pushed but now that the subject had been broached he had questions of his own like why did his sharp-shooter come back smelling like flame-lilies every time they spent more than a few hours on Coruscant.

“With all due respect Sarge, I don’t see how it’s anyone’s business.”

Hunter bristles, “as you can imagine knowing where my men are is important.”

“Listen, I’ve never been arrested like these-“ he’s pointing from Wrecker to Tech when Tech interrupts.

“Technically, neither of was ever arrested. Commander Fox-“

“Close your yap Tech”

“-never continued the arrest proceedings and Wrecker was simply told his patronage at 79’s was no longer welcome”

“Yeah, no arrests on my record. Just asked not to patronize”

“The term is patronage” Tech clarifies helpfully.

“Yeah, what he said!”

Crosshair rubs at the tension building over the bridge of his nose.

Hunter raises an expectant brow, “We’ll finish this talk later, you and I.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Would you hold still?”

“You’re coming at my with a blade and you expect me to hold still?”

Mari chuckles, bringing the straight edge of the razor back up to Crosshair's cheek. She holds his chin with one hand and admires the sharp jawline covered in a thick layer of shaving cream.

He’s glaring.

Or at least, _attempting_ the sniper glare™️.

Meant to look tough, in the moment he’s no more intimidating than a loth-cat kitten. She has to bite her lip to stifle a full on laugh.

“I wonder,” she hums as his eyes narrow in at her, tattoo distorting with the movement, “If your brothers know what a baby you are?”

His lips purse as she wraps her legs around his waist, holding him in place. She’s braced precariously on the edge of the fresher counter. It’s a tight fit and the lighting is abominable. His hands squeeze her hips.

“Omari…” it’s meant to be a warning. She rolls her eyes.

“Crosshair.”

“Don’t cut me” it’s an order and a plea.

In the moment something about the way his eyes don’t leave her, the silly way he looks, the way he smells like her favorite soap. It’s burned into her brain.

One perfect moment.

“Trust me?” She asks.

He dips his chin offering her better access as she takes the first swipe of foam and stubble away.


	6. Chapter 6

“Omari” Crosshair doesn’t bother to hide the irritation in his voice. Felucia had been a complete shit show. They’d spent a week in the hot, dank jungle. He’d spent the majority of it perched, still as stone, in a sniper’s nest while bugs attempted to burrow through his composite for a clone feast. All he wanted to do was unwind and fuck his frustration away. 

The one place he was supposed to be free of it all had been unusually tense since he’d shown up. Mari had been… off, reticent since he’d shown up and it was beginning to rub his last nerve raw.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

Mari busies herself pulling clean sheets across the bed, smoothing them with her hand as she goes, “you’re early and I’m not ready” she huffs. 

He doesn’t really mind _too_ much that she hadn’t greeted him with her usual knowing smile and banter. He’s got an excellent view of her ass through the sheer robe she’s wearing and that should be all he really needs for the moment but there’s more to it. Her shoulders are tight, her movements are stiff. She’s tense and after nearly a year of coming to her he knows what to expect and this isn’t it.

“Your on the clock, Kitten.” He reminds roughly from his spot slumped in her armchair. The top half of his armor already piled neatly in the corner. He’d done it himself. He hadn’t taken his own armor off in ages. She did it.

“If you’re not happy with me Crosshair, you’re welcome to find someone else” it’s said through gritted teeth as she still refuses to look at him. A wave of emotion (panic, though he’ll never admit to knowing that feeling) washes over him. The problem was he didn’t want to see another girl. Mari knew what made him tick and, honestly, he liked being around her more than he could reconcile with himself.

“Easy girl” he stands and covers the few steps between them. He’s gentle when he takes her arm and she only struggles weakly as he turns her.

“Look at me Kitten” 

She doesn’t. Her chin tilts up and she looks toward the window. The yellow, artificial light spilling in casts her face in a shadow, dark under her eye and…

Crosshair takes her chin in hand and turns it sharply to him. Brown eyes narrow in on the dark shadow around her right eye and cheek. The shadow that’s not a shadow.

“What happened?”

Mari’s eyes go wide as she attempts to pull away but he’s not having it.

“It’s fine Cross” her voice is smooth as Cyrene silk. She’s trying to throw him off and he makes a sound of distaste as her hands come up and stroke over his chest. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

Yeah, he wasn’t about to let it go for a soft touch and her false soothing.

She seems to relax as his hand loosens on her chin but she redoubles her efforts quickly as his hand grabs her wrist and starts pulling her toward the refresher.

“What are you doing?”

She pulls halfheartedly against him. He’s glad she’s smart enough not to truly fight him. He wasn’t in the mood for it.

“Take your armor off” he demands as the light hums to life and he stops her in front of the sink.

“What are you talking about?”

Her eyes narrow and, Maker, it’s really hard to not give into her and let it be. 

But he can’t. This wasn’t his business but he can’t let it go.

“It’s just a little bruise” she admits, weakness creeping in, “we don’t have to- I mean you can come a different time if it’s that big a deal to you.”

“Omari, I said take off your make-up”

Crosshair watches her shoulders slump. When they played she gave into him so easily but that was during playtime, when she was on the clock. He was asking something else of her now and she was fighting him. 

He ignores the way she doesn’t move to do as he’s said, instead he opens the small vanity and retrieves a cloth he knew she kept stored there. Reaching around her he turns the water on, finally using one hand to move her to the side so he can wet the cloth himself. He can feel her eyes on him and when he glances up he catches a moment of curiosity, a moment of something like apprehension before she locks it down.

He wrings the cloth out and grabs her hand, placing it in her palm.

“Do what I say” his tone remains low and demanding as her eyes scan his face, “I’m not playing right now.” He confirms.

He can see the wheels in her head turning. She’s weighing all the possible outcomes, looking at all the options. Finally, she turns toward the mirror and adds soap to the cloth. She focuses entirely on the suds she’s creating and avoids catching his eye in the mirror behind her.

Her fresher is tiny and he uses it as an excuse to crowd in behind her as she begins taking the layers of makeup off in slow circles. The deep red of her lips fades to a soft pink, the contours of her face become less sharp, softening her appearance and showing how young she still was. Her skin is smooth. Her complexion clear but not the single uniform tone her makeup suggested. 

He watches the transformation silently as she peels away the protective armor to expose her true self underneath.

Her eyes dart to his once and he offers a tight smile that she returns with an equally strained one. His hand falls to her hip and he gives an encouraging squeeze. The tension between them seems to melt as she leans her weight back against his chest.

“That’s my girl” the words slip out and he doesn’t regret them, “finish the job Kitten”.

“Crosshair-“

“No” he stops any excuse “I want it off.”

Mari nods and rinses the cloth with fresh water before bringing it back to begin taking the shadow and concealer off her eyes. The bruises surrounding her right eyes bloom. The thick layer of makeup had done an exceptional job of hiding the colors, blue and purple at the center with sickly green beginning to peek through around the edges as healing began. The damage stands out starkly against her pale skin. He tamps back the murderous feelings swelling in his chest.

She finishes slowly. Setting the cloth down and looking at him through the mirror.

“Who?” It’s one word, asked with more menace than even he knew he was capable of. 

Mari shoulders square.

“It was just business. If you don’t like it you don’t have to-“

“Omari, who did it?” His hand turns her gently. She flinches as his thumb traces the beginning of the trauma on her cheek bone to where it extends up onto her temple.

“I won’t be servicing them anymore if that’s what you’re worried about. No more damaged goods-.”

His thumb dips down to her lips, silencing any further explanation.

“I asked who” his tone is cool “you’re going to tell me and then you’re going to show me where your bacta is.”

He loosens his grip as she turns away. He watches the struggle on her face in the mirror as she roots around to find the small bottle of bacta spray.

The green of her eyes sticks out sharply against the discolored skin and Crosshair can’t look away as she turns back to him. 

“Darj’in Kos, Black Sun” she says quietly. She looks so soft, not at all like the woman he’s used to. 

He takes the spray in hand. His voice softens. 

He softens “thank you.” 

It surprises them both when he leans down, presses a soft kiss to her forehead. He doesn’t stop there. He places another to her battered cheek. Her skin is still damp and he can smell the residual of the makeup lingering there. She inhales sharply as his lips press quickly against the corner of her mouth.

“I’m sorry” he lies, drawing up to his full height.

“It’s ok” she lies back.

“Close your eyes for me, kitten” 

Crosshair is thankful when her lids flutter shut, a moment without her eyes on him to think as he holds a shielding hand over her closed right eye and sprays the bacta. 

He didn’t kiss. Kisses were not something they did. She had rules and he had issues and-

“Crosshair?” How long has he been frozen there, bacta in hand? Her warm hand presses against his chest, another trails up to his cheek. The pads of her fingers press softly into his skin. He notices for the first time the light smattering of freckles cross the bridge of her nose, the pale pink scar that sits above her left brow. 

“Hmm?” He hates that he doesn’t have anything better to say but her forest eyes are peering up at him shining with nerves he’s never seen in her and he’s not prepared for what it does to him, the way his lungs feel starved of air.

“Kiss me again?”

The can of bacta clatters against the floor as his head dips suddenly. His lips capture hers in a rush of need as he presses her back against the counter. Mari clings to him, her hands fist in his blacks, keeping her body flush against his. Her lips are sweet and soft and she blossoms under his touch, opening to him as his tongue explores her mouth. 

He swallows down her soft whimpers, pretends he doesn’t feel the swell of emotions building in his chest. She chases after him as she pulls back and he darts in for another peck before he lifts her into his arms. She clings to him, mouth nipping and sucking at his neck as he leaves the fresher, the make-up stained cloth, and his ability to remain indifferent behind.


	7. Chapter 7

Sharp and staccato, the knock comes as a surprise. Mari’s eyes fall on the door accusingly, as if the door itself and not the person on the other side was interrupting her peace. She had no one on her schedule until much later and now was supposed to be time for her. There were eye masks and a queue of holovids calling her name.

“Kitten” a voice sing-songs and her heart stutters. The voice is muted but she knows it in an instant. The velvety growl only meant one person. Crosshair.

He wasn’t on the schedule.

A mirror hangs next to the entrance and she takes a moment to run her finger through her hair, letting it trail down her back in thick black waves. She frowns at the lack of make-up but she schools her features, hiding any note of excitement and affection that might give her away. A quiet thump against the door let’s her know he’s leaning in the frame, lazy and loose limbed, like a stray tom Loth-cat.

Crosshair smiles, a Cheshire grin, as the door slides open for him. He doesn’t wait for her to grant him entrance, simply eases past her as she crosses her arms over her chest. 

“You know the rules” she scolds, voice low with warning “you're not my only client.”

“And _you_ know, I’m not a fan of rules.” Gloved hands reach into the pack he’s carrying, enough credits to make her eyes go wide are placed neatly on the table nearest the door. “Also, for the next fourteen hours, I am your _only_ client.”

She’s got a soft spot for him, one that grows larger with every visit he makes, eats the hole he’s created in her heart that much larger, a festering sore spot that’s begun to remind her the weeks and months he’s gone. 

Mari can’t deny him. Doesn’t want to deny him. She tries not to let him know it, lest it go to his head and his already large ego. She counts the credits, not making eye contact. “This is a lot for a trooper.”

“If you’re not worth that much I’ll take some back” he quips. 

Mira snorts derisively. The back and forth was one of the reasons she allowed him to break her rules. He’d always pushed, like a petulant child, from their very first meeting. 

The clone trooper enjoyed getting a rise out of people, watching them get hot under the collar while he stayed cool. She glances up as he sets his helmet down on the lone dresser in the room. He rubs at his hair. It’s already smooth, short and close to his scalp. Glancing back at her as if to make sure she was still watching. Those soft brown eyes, mirthful and alive catch her staring. He would be the death of her. Or at least her business.

“I’m worth every bit and more” she hums moving to grab her holopad and start sending out the cancellation notices she’d known she’d make the second she’d heard his voice on the other side of the door, “I suppose I can clear out a few hours of time-“

“Fourteen hours, kitten.” He recalls setting his bag down.

“-fourteen hours then- for my _best_ client.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t miss me” he prods moving closer. Mari makes no attempt to get away, she couldn’t if she wanted too. Holding her hand up she merely halts his progress. Crosshair gives her another grin as she leans into his space and sniffs the air. She can smell sweat, ozone, and the coppery tang of burnt metal.

“Did you come direct from the field?” 

Crosshair shrugs, “didn’t want to miss a minute with you, kitten.”

“Don’t ‘kitten’ me. Shower first.” She takes in the stubble decorating his chin, dark like his brows. No where near the burnished gunmetal tone of his hair. “Maybe a shave too.”

“You take such good care of me” He snarks. He watches her as she goes back to making cancellations, sending holo and contacting one via commlink. She gives her _sincerest_ apologies (she “must have come down with something”) after a few minutes he grows bored and attempts to lay on the lone bed in the small loft.

“Shower first” she mouths the reminder silently and he slinks over to her armchair. He raises a brow questioningly as she gives him a nod and he slouches down into the cushions, draping comfortably. She can feel his eyes follow her as she paces the floor. Her client was irritated. Justifiably so. So coos sweetly and apologizes to a point where it makes her want to be sick. After a few back and forth and promises she knows she’ll have a hard time keeping she’s done. 

She didn’t service senators, or those in power. No cartel bosses came to her. She wasn’t at their level. 

Their underlings, aides, and lackeys, on the other hand, kept her hands full. They weren’t always powerful but they were often dangerous and interactions required kid gloves. She idly wonders, as she tucks the datapad into a drawer, if Crosshair knows what a rash of shit he put her through, or whether he even cared.

When her eyes fall back to him he’s tossing a trio of rocks in his hand. 

“Are those what I think they are?” She wants to kick herself for the excitement she hears bubbling up in her voice. Her irritation with his sudden arrival is almost instantly forgotten.

Crosshair smiles as he catches them in hand. One. Two. Three.

“What do you think they are, Kitten?”

Mari grasps her hands together as she moves to the locked closet and quickly types in the code. Her apartment was sterile, impersonal. Except the walk-in. It’s where she kept her world, all the things that mattered that no one was allowed to see. She has to stand on a crate to reach the jar tucked back in the highest shelf. The contents rattle against the clear glass. Small rocks and stones fill the jar half full, nearly two dozen in total. She holds it tightly to her chest as she moves back into the room. This wasn’t how play time began with Crosshair but it was a warm-up.

“You’ve got my rocks.” 

He pats his knee gently.

“I’ve got your rocks.”

She’d been doing this too long to allow her stomach to flip the way it did when he smiled at her. She pushes the blossoming feeling down, locks it in a box to take out an examination at a different time. 

Or never. 

Never was probably best.

Mari had never been off Coruscant, a fact she’d let slip on her second visit from the Clone trooper. She’d been born on the lowest levels to spice addicts. It was a hard life and, like Crosshair, she had her scars and burdens to bear. She’d had to be smart and more than a little lucky to stay alive. 

One grew up fast when one had nothing. She’d entered the sex trade far to young but she’d been so hungry and so naive when that first man had offered her cash for “her time”. It only continued from there, falling in with older and more mature workers who took her under their wings. It had taken years of clawing to get herself to where she was now but she was never where she wanted to be. She always wanted more.

Mari slides onto Crosshair’s knee and he bounces it playfully a few times. He’d began bringing her rocks after her admission that she’d wanted to see the galaxy. He brought one from every planet he went to in between his visits. The jar was the sampler of the galaxy that awaited her one day (even if she didn’t truly believe she’d ever leave Coruscant).

He takes the jar and presses it in between his thigh and the chair’s arm. His long fingers pry the top off as she settles against his chest.

“You stink” she murmurs.

“Believe you’ve already made reference to that fact. Would you like your presents or no?”

Her eyes roll at his smug tone, “yes. Please.”

His nose nuzzles along her ear softly. “Show me the one I brought you last time.” He demands gently. “Tell me where it’s from.”

Mari’s hand slips into the jar and finds the thin, flat stone that fits perfectly into her palm. Her finger rubs over it before letting it fall back with the others with a clink.“Yavin 4”

“Good” he hums, “you remember why it’s my favorite?” The stubble of his beard draws out chills as it rasps against her skin.

“Because it’s green and pretty-“

“-and it reminds me of your eyes” he finishes smoothly

“Cross…” 

“Omari” he teases using her given name. 

Arguing with him about lines that can’t be crossed and propriety is useless so she doesn’t try. He did what he was going to do when he was going to do it and for all her professional rules, she was just along for the ride.

“I’ve got three new ones for you” he says dropping each into the hand she upturns for him. Opalescent blue, metallic black, and angry, fevered red all sit in her hand. All different shapes (from jagged to smooth) and weights. She rolls them around as she readjusts on his armored lap, her head not leaving his shoulder.

“Dantooine, Corellia, Geonosis” he points out each one in turn before he scoops them back up and drops them into the jar with the others. “My all time favorite,” he hums caressing her check in a soft way that has her eyes drifting shut “will always be Yavin-4”.

She finds herself beginning to drift at his gentle touch. Too accepting of the tenderness it provided. They were not lovers, she tries to remind herself. This was a business transaction only slightly more friendly than most. It takes a lot of effort to pull away from it and crawl out of his lap. 

“Alright” she says changing the subject quickly, “let’s get you cleaned up.” 

She doesn’t wait for him to move as she opens the door of the small 'fresher connected to the single room loft. She remembers how he liked his showers, just like she did. Scalding. 

She turns the water on high and watches as steam begins to fill the small space and spill into the next.

“Come help me out of my gear.” He orders over the sound of the water.

“No playing til you're clean” it’s a warning but a half-hearted one. A small nod as she leaves the 'fresher lets her know he understands.

It had taken a handful of visits to learn the proper way to remove the composite armor from the trooper, the correct order and the proper way to lay it out as it came off. Mari’s fingers travel over the skull and the carved aurebesh 99. He always held so still as she worked. He never rushed her. He liked to watch. 

He’d only admitted once, that he liked the way her fingers slipped around the different fittings and worked each one lose before placing them to the side, the feel of her releasing him from the weight of it all.

Steam rolls from the 'fresher door as she takes the last piece off leaving him in his blacks. They cling to his chest, showing off the angular, defined muscles and frame that lay underneath. 

Crosshair takes the initiative and pulls his shirt off before stepping out of his bottoms. He doesn’t flinch as her eyes rove from top to bottom and back up. He was a handsome creature, lean and dangerous. She follows the road map of scars that litter his body, knows the history of a few but can only hypothesize on the vast majority of the others.

She holds out her hands and he takes them, his skin a few degrees warmer than her own, the pads of his fingers rough as she guides him.

The steam envelopes them and the sniper doesn’t hesitate before he steps into the hot spray face first, blowing out a wet mist as he turns his neck. The sound of his vertebrae popping is loud enough to be heard over the splash of the water.

Mari enjoys the view for a moment, letting her eyes linger on the already half-hard organ between his legs. She can’t help but lick her lips.

Her clothes are discarded quickly in a tiny heap before she moves into the shower herself. 

She can feel the sigh leave his body as her hands smooth over the taut muscles of his back. It turns to a groan as she kneads around his shoulder blades, the number one spot she’d find knots and tension.

A pained sound escapes his lips and she freezes, her fingers tracing one such knot.

“No... right there Kitten- don’t stop.” 

She does as she’s ordered to, working until the ball of muscles she’s found slowly releases and his shoulders along with it. 

Reaching down she retrieves a sponge and gives it a liberal squeeze of soap before working it into a lather. 

“You’re spoiled” she hums as she works the softly scented bubbles over him.

“Oh?” 

Mari’s hand wraps around his hip and turns him towards her. He looks down with an unreadable expression.

“You’ve got special privileges. I don’t bathe people.” She murmurs, rubbing the sponge, then her hands over the taut planes of his stomach and up over his chest.

“And yet here you are and here I am.”

“Like I said, _privileges_.” 

When she feels like she’s gone as far as the soap will take her she drops the sponge to the floor and reaches for the shampoo. 

She loved watching his face when she did this. 

She works a dollop into her hands and presses her chest to his, draping her arms over his shoulders. Strong fingers grip her waist as her hands begin to work at the closely cropped hair at the base of his skull.

“Kriff…” he curses softly. Fingers flex and his grip tightens. “What other privileges has my patronage earned?”

The soapy water running over their bodies slicks Mari’s skin as she rises to her toes, fingers still massage at his scalp, the thick line of his erection presses against her belly. Warmth pools between her legs as she moves her lips along his jaw. “Only you get kisses above the neck.” She nips lightly at the stubble before her lips ghost along his. “A good privilege?”

Crosshair’s lips seal over hers in response. Long fingers knot in her hair, pulling gently, guiding her mouth just how he wanted it.

Her lips part as his tongue probes, licking into her mouth.

She’d never known she could enjoy another mouth against hers so much as she did with the sniper. 

Kissing was not part of her services. at least above the shoulders it wasn’t. Most of her clients seemed to care little for it, the intimacy and closeness it could provide wasn’t what they sought and therefore she had no use for it either. Crosshair needed it though. He’d broken her no kissing rule on his third visit when he’d pressed a soft one against her lips as they had lain in post romp bliss and she enjoyed it. She’d enjoyed it so much she hadn’t fought when it had become a normal occurrence. Even when she knew she should have. 

Mari follows after him as he pulls away only to be stopped by his fingers gripping her hair, pressed against her scalp.

“Do I get to play now, pet?” The silken tone makes her whine and squirm in his grasp.

“Yes, please”

“Then be a good girl and do as I say” he presses into her again turning her against the shower wall. The force of her back hitting the tile combined with the hot press of his cock against her robs her lungs of air. “Eyes up Kitten” he croons.

Literally half of her job was dealing with assholes who thought they were doms, but Crosshair? He was the real deal and it did things to her. 

Kriff, it did things to her. 

When he grabs her chin, pinching her jaw firmly between his fingers to angle her face she can’t help the needy whine that rises up in her throat.

“There’s my good girl.” He murmurs appreciatively. “I’ve needed this” he admits and she has to bite her own tongue from agreeing. 

Sex was work. Sometimes enjoyable (often not) but still work. 

Until he came around. 

He left her craving more and almost feeling guilty for taking his money. Almost.

His fingers loosen as they trail from jaw to neck. Mari tips her head back until it presses against the tile, offering a pale expanse of her neck.

“Want my hand around your pretty throat? Me too. In good time.” He promises.

Mari whines again.

“So needy after I’ve been away” he notes. “Been gone too long” 

His moves to cup one of her breasts. It fills his hand to overflow. Mari can feel the slickness grow at her center as he kneads gently before switching to the other. A gasp escapes her as he pinches a peaked nipple.

“Cross…” she whines back arching as his body begins to slip down her. Thin lips trail down her neck. He sucks roughly at her pulse.

“Stop!” She gasps, the feeling so good and the urge to have him mark her overwhelming, “Can’t damage the goods.” She mumbles as he licks at the spot, easing the red mark he’s left. “No one wants someone else’s leftovers.”

He growls as the words leave her lips, a snarl that works it’s way up from down deep. 

“I get the point” he grits. Her eyes fall to his, cheeks stained red from the hot water, pupils blown wide and eyes dark with lust and something else. “But you're mine right now.”

Words elude her, the feeling the bubbles to the surface threatens to overwhelm. All she can do is nod. 

His lips find her collarbone and feathers over it as he continues to work his way down. He takes a knee as he trails kiss over her stomach, licks at the rivulets of water that roll down it. Mari rubs her hands over his head, fingers barely disappear in the short hairs they find. She wishes it were longer so she could grip and pull at it. Her whole body is on fire, slowly worked towards frenzy by the man on his knees in front of her.

His mouth doesn’t stop it’s decent until , nose is bumping at the neatly trimmed patch of curls that mark his final destination. Hands grip her thighs, kneading roughly.

“Been thinking about tasting your cunt for weeks kitten.” He murmurs against her thigh as he noses the top of her slit. Mari feels her knees tremble. She loved the filth he spewed when they were together. It’s hard to admit but she fantasized about him while with other clients to get through it any situation that was left than ideal.

“Put your leg over my shoulder” he demands.

She complies and shivers as her body is exposed to him, steam still clouding the air. He doesn’t waste time as he nudges between her thighs. The flat of his tongue takes a long stroke over the soft folds he’s exposed. Mari arches at the sensation, hands resting against his head. Crosshair hums his pleasure as he laps again and again, tasting her, savoring the moment. One hand snakes around her hip and latches onto the round globe of her ass, uses the leverage to tilt her toward his mouth. Mari moans softly.

“That’s it Kitten. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”

“Please…” she whines “don’t stop”

She can feel his smug grin as he turns his head to nip at her thigh. The tip of a finger traces along her outer lips, slowly parting her and running through the arousal it finds.

“So wet. All for me, yeah?” 

Sounds tumble from her lips as he presses his finger up into her core.

“More.. please… I need…”

“I know exactly what you need” he croons before lowering his mouth back to her sex. His tongue teases between her folds as he begins to work her over with new enthusiasm. Another finger enters her, scissoring inside her as she cries out. She loved the way he would stretch and prep her. 

It never took him long to bring her to climax. He’d once explained to her how the patience and focus it took to be a successful sniper could carry over into other aspects of his life. He focused on her reactions to his ministrations, using the changes in her tone or the way her muscles would quake to find just the right spot, the right pressure, the right stroke. His patience allowed him hours to do all that in. He seemed to gather as much pleasure from her release as she did. 

Thank the Maker.

His tongue finally makes its way to her clit, lathing the small bundle of nerves and effectively cutting off any higher level thinking. 

Her thighs twitch as she feels tension coiling in her belly. The sniper groans against her as his lips wrap around her clit and begin to suck. The shower is losing its heat fast but she barely notices the change in temperature because she is so damn close to the precipice. His fingers begin to fuck into her in earnest and the combination of his warm mouth and digits penetrating her is pushing… pushing… 

“Cum for me" he demands lowly before redoubling his efforts.

She calls out his name as the tension snaps and she comes apart around him, the one leg holding her up threatens to give out as she grinds against his mouth. It’s only the strong press of his other hand on her hip that keeps her from collapsing as she sobs out her release. Between her legs Crosshair feeds on her cunt like a starving man, working her through her orgasm, greedily lapping at her juices until it’s too much as she has to push his head away from the over stimulated tissue. She watches him lick her essence off his fingers like it’s a delicacy.

She’s barely coherent as he helps her unwrap the leg from his shoulder and slips down to the shower floor, he makes just enough room to allow her to sit as he reaches over and shuts the water off. When he turns back she’s grabbing his face and dragging him in for a kiss. It’s sloppy and desperate and makes her nearly sob when he gathers her to him. His hands stroke over her wet skin as she nuzzles into him as if she was the one paying for his time and not the other way around. 

“That’s my sweet Kitten” he praises “you came so good for me. Did exactly what I wanted you to do.”

“Always want to be good for you” she admits and earns a smirk from him that makes her toes curl. 

“Alright, Gonna get ya dried off now and then you can prove how good a girl you can be for me.”

Mari’s eyes travel down to the thick erection bobbing between his legs, the head of it is angry and weeping and she can’t wait to keep playing.


	8. Chapter 8

The lights glow, the sickly yellow of the lower levels, a sour rotten light that casts everything they touch in hopeless shadows.

Omari remembers what desperation felt like, sprung from the poisoned ground of it and now she’s back in the thick of it but this time she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to climb out. 

She can’t rise anymore, her wings have been clipped. Coruscant has fallen.

Or has it risen? 

Is she still on her level? 

Have the top levels just risen that much higher?

She stumbles, her shoes in disrepair. Something awful has happened but nobody knows just what it is and everything has changed. Blaster fire reaches her ears, the ozone smell of it curls into her noise as she moves away from it.

And closer to it.

It’s everywhere.

And the screams. The screams don’t stop. They reverberate in her skull blending and bleeding together until it becomes the sound track of her flight.

She doesn’t stop, turning corners, going through doors, traveling down passageways in a never ending series of warrens and catacombs that have become her home.

“ _Mari_ ”

Her heart threatens to break through the cage of her chest. Even modulated, she knows that voice. So she follows it. She can feel him in her marrow like he’s a part of her, his heartbeat synced with the fluttering of her own. Her feet carry her blindly forward as she follows the lazy way her name rolls off Crosshairs tongue. It’s another breadcrumb to follow each time she hears it.

“ _Mari_ ”

“ _Mari_ ”

“ _Mari_ "

Until finally she rounds a corner and there he is. The familiar armor is all neatly in place. She can picture his smirk, savage with the underlying arrogance she’d come to appreciate, underneath his helmet.

“There you are Kitten. I’ve been looking for you.”

Her heart fills even when his words bring bile up in her throat. 

He had been looking for her. 

He’d come back for her. 

Her feet carry her to him. They’re bleeding now. She looks down and they’re bare. Where had her shoes gone? It doesn’t matter. Crosshair was here for her and everything was going to be ok.

She stumbles, falls into him, hands scrabbling for purchase against the plastoid. He presses where his forehead must be against her own and she’s flooded with relief so strong it threatens to overwhelm.

Words fail to flow as she pulls back and tries, Maker, she tries to will her heart to slow and stop battering against her ribcage.

“Cross- I thought…”

“I know” his voice is quiet and than she feels it.

Before her ears can process the sound she’s heard she feels the lancing pain shoot through her belly, the smell of seared flesh and cauterized blood invading her nose. 

She stumbles back, fingers spread wide to cover the hole. Crosshair stands blaster in hand.

“That’s cute. You thought you were more than just a-“

—————

He’s never been a heavy sleeper, his body only allowing him short bursts of rest with his conscious so close to the surface that the slightest sounds and changes would wake him. It made him a good soldier- or so he’d been told. 

There’s nothing slight about what the woman in his arms is doing.

He’d woken to a sharp intake of breath, watched in the artificial light as her face had become pinched and her body stiff.

Crosshair doesn’t dream, at least not that he can ever remember, but he knows a nightmare when he sees one.

Mari’s brows knit and he watches her lips move forming silent words he can’t make out. He swears he can feel the thick pull of fear settle into his belly like she’s radiating it in waves.

“Mari.” He tries to wake her with his voice alone. “Mari.”

A ragged sob works it’s way up from her throat, spills over the soft pillow of her lips. He shakes her gently as the first tear rolls down her cheek.

“Kitten”

He doesn’t like the way her distress makes him feel, like he’s out in the field and his rifle’s not in his hands. He’s unprepared and in danger. It’s unfamiliar and alarming.

Crosshair rolls to his elbows, propped over her, watching her inhale thickly, long pulls of air that are raggedly blown out a second later. His hands go to her bare shoulders and shake gently at first and than harder when she still doesn’t wake.

“Omari, wake up!” He grits out as she turns in his grip, brings a knee up in a way that connects painfully with his stomach.

Her eyes lurch open when he snarls in pain. Again he feels waves of distress and panic flow over him. It’s like he’s seeing himself through her eyes and he doesn’t like what he sees. Confusion and terror and… waves of nausea roll through him.

He releases, pushing away, in a quick movement. His eyes watch as Mari’s hands spread over her belly, like she’s searching., fingers prodding at the soft expanse of flesh. Confusion clouds her forest eyes as she makes a sound not unlike a wounded nexu.

They go wide as she sits up.

She looks lost and so very young. Far younger than he knew her to be.

“Cross…” she doesn’t finish his name, her voice breaking as she drags in a ragged breath. “I’m- i’m so sorry. I…”

Crosshair, reaches out and catches a tear as it runs down her cheek. He hushes her.

“Quiet- I don’t want to hear it” He sees her flinch and realizes that maybe that wasn’t the _right_ thing to say.

He sits upright and glances at the chrono on the wall and than back to her, 0400. He’d have to leave soon but he didn’t want to do it like this with, whatever had just happened, looming. 

He sits up and holds an arm open. “C'mere” he tries to soften the growl from his voice. He doesn’t want her to ever look at him like that again- his stomach churns… as if he’d _betrayed_ her.

Mari hesitates until he clucks his tongue and glances down at the spot he’s made for her. She moves slowly, hesitant. He lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding once she’s finally tucked herself into his body and he can wrap her up.

Quiet reigns.

He can feel a wet spot forming where her face was buried against his blacks, the way her body shudders is unmistakable

“Do you- do you want to talk about it?”

“No”


	9. Chapter 9

Somewhere along the way Crosshair begins to think of Mari as _his_. 

It’s not good. It’s the farthest thing from good he could ever imagine.

But _she_ is good and she makes him feel like he’s more than a piece of GAR property. When he’s with her he thinks about things he never thought possible.

It’s why when she doesn’t answer his holos he starts to worry. Two days out he starts trying to reach her but all he gets is radio silence. Then he thinks of the Pykes and Crimson Dawn and all of the other shitbags she had on her client list. The aids of corrupt senators whose fruit probably didn’t fall far from the tree. Gangsters and killers and…

Crosshair is not a soft man but Omari has wormed her way into his thoughts and his life. He’s not ready to lose that feeling, the warmth just the thought of her makes him feel on cold nights in the field. 

It’s why he finds himself in the middle of the night walking with purpose through the mid-levels of Coruscant. It’s the reason he ignores his vode' questions when he leaves. It’s why he finds himself pounding on her door at midnight worried that she’s not alright and he wasn’t there to do anything about it. 

It takes an eternity for her to come to the door. She’s in one of his black undershirts, stolen when he’d stayed once before. It’s long on her but not long enough to fully cover the soft curves of her hips and certainly not loose enough to hide the swell of her breasts underneath.

“Kriff, Kitten” He can’t help the relief that rushes through him, “Could have answered my Holos. You know how I hate showing up unannounced.”

Mari doesn’t open the door fully, her hair is rumpled from sleep and frames her face in a tangled mess but her skin glows and her face is full and she looks so healthy and…

“What are you doing here?” The question strikes at the heart of him, like a surprise brush from a blaster bolt. Her eyes are wary and Crosshair can’t help the way his jaw sets and his lips move into a firm line. 

“I’m here to see you.”

“Cross… I can’t… we…we just can’t do this anymore” She moves to close the door but he’s quick, boot slipping in place to block it from sliding shut. This wasn’t the welcome he’d expected. Where was the sass about showing up past business hours. Where were the snide remarks about how filthy he was? Where was the soft look in her eyes while she dressed him down because she was worth more than the measly credits he had to spend on her?

He pushes into the loft as she crosses her arms over her chest. 

“You need to leave. This is not happening. I’m not…”

“You can’t just turn me away, Mari.” He watches her eyes soften before she turns and walks toward the window. “I know it’s been a few months-”

“Four months. It’s been four months without a word.” She’s tired, he can hear it. He doesn’t have a response for that. Both of them were idiots for letting whatever it was between them blossom into more but he was here now and that should be enough. 

It had to be enough.

Silence grows between them.

“You’ve changed the place up.” He says trying to cut through the quiet. His eyes trail around the room. It’s different from last time he was here. It’s not so impersonal. She’s got new curtain’s. They’re white with elegant purple flowers that he doesn’t know the name of splashed across them. There’s clothes in a pile on the floor, art on the walls, a patchwork blanket on the bed.

A galaxy of rocks on the nightstand. 

“Crosshair, I don’t do what you want me to do anymore.”

“So you don’t go soft and sweet when I call you Kitten?” He asks full of bravado and sees her chest rise and fall raggedly. She sniffs softly. 

“You can’t just come here with a pocket full of credits and expect me to fuck you, ok?” It cuts and it stings. Fine, if that’s how it was going to be…

“You’re not a whore anymore? Is that it? Or are you just too good to service a Clone?” The tides have turned fast.

Mari spins on her heels and he sees that fire, that backbone that he loved, flash in her eyes. She’s fast, his kitten is and she nearly slaps that kriff out of him. He’d deserve it he supposes but he catches her hand at the last minute. She fights then struggles to pull away, but he’s always been stronger and a few months wasn’t about to change that. He uses his grip on her wrist to reel her back in, pinning her arm behind her back. 

“Stop fighting me Omari.” he growls near her ear as she attempts to stomp a bare foot down on his boot.

“Let me go!” she snarls, tears beginning to build in her eyes. His other arm wraps around her middle, “I can’t do this with you.” 

His arm holds her tight. Maker how he missed feeling her close. All he needs to to do is to get her to calm down. He just needs to know what the problem is.

He can fix this.

Crosshair’s hand flattens, spreading across her belly to hold her in place so she didn’t hurt herself-

His fingers flex around the tiny swell in her belly.

It feels like a punch to the gut. She stumbles as he hurriedly pushes her away, eyes narrowing, betrayal bubbling up inside him.

Mari holds a hand over her belly, fingers spread like a shield to protect it. She looks regal, her hair not a tangled mess but a mane, a rock-lioness in full glory. Her eyes flare accusingly. 

“I told you I can’t do this.”

“Yeah, I get that now,” he feels his own brand of venom tinge his words as he advances on her. Mari doesn’t back away as he comes chest to chest with her, “Carrying a little bastard around.”

This time she does manage to land a hit and the slap echoes in the room. 

“It’s yours, _e chu ta_!” 

Crosshair raises an eyebrow.

“Such language! And from such an upstanding member of society.” He mocks as he glares down at her, cheek still stinging, “Maybe you didn’t get the memo, but I’m not really made for creating babies”

Mari’s nostrils flare “And I wasn’t supposed to be ‘making babies’ either. My birth control chip came from a faulty batch-”

“And that makes it mine?” She was moonbrained. That was the only explanation he can think of. “It takes two people to dance, darlin’ and you’ve had more partners than the entire GAR combined.” He feels a sense of pride and a sick swell of nausea as she flinches back from his words. 

Her lips purse as she pulls air in through her nose, her eyes blink rapidly, tears threatening to spill over at any moment. “The timing matches, Cross, and you’re the only one who…”

“Who what?” he asks darkly. 

“Remember those _special privileges_?”

He laughs and he hurts and he laughs some more until he’s not entirely sure he isn’t going mad. “I’m the only one who got to empty their load inside you? Are you kidding me? That’s the best you’ve got?”

“Get out!” It’s broken and guttural as she pushes his chest back. He doesn’t move, stuck frozen in his spot.

He crossed a line and then stepped on a thermal detonator.

Sobs are wracking her body and he wants to reach out and hold her but all he can see in her eyes is hatred. “Get out Crosshair.” when he doesn’t move she storms to the door and allows it to fly all the way open. “Now.”

He tries not to look at her tear streaked face as he walks past but he fails and it haunts the dreams he's not supposed to have for years to come.


	10. Chapter 10

“Don’t slam the door in my face”

Mari hasn’t seen the clone commando in two months, not since she explained why they’d have to terminate their _business agreement_. It had gone about as poorly as she’d expected it would. 

She’s mourned the loss.

_Poorly._

She’s cried.

_A lot._

She’s moved on.

 _Hardly_.

She’d blame it on newly flaring hormones and the stresses of a career change. In reality, it was because she’d dared to hope. She’d hoped that the feeling she had when Crosshair was with her wasn’t just something she’d made up in her head. She’d hoped that he’d be the knight she’d always dreamed of but publicly scoffed at the notion of. She wanted him to be someone he couldn’t be and it hadn’t been fair to either of them.

Now, he’s standing in front of her, his body language radiating a very un-Crosshair like insecurity.

The marksman she knew didn’t fidget, he didn’t let on that there was more going on behind the facade he’d crafted. He was cool, aloof, above it all.

The clone in front of her adjusts his weight from one foot to the next, his helmet twitching at each sound he heard down the hallway, having a hard time keeping focused on her.

It was the only reason she didn’t hit the button and close the door tight on him.

But she makes him sweat.

Mari stands, lets her eyes scan up and down his armor as she crosses her arms over her chest. She sees the minuscule jerk of his helmet as her robe goes tight over her expanding belly.

She softens. He hadn’t asked for this anymore than she had. It wasn’t fair to either of them.

“Come in?” She steps slowly to the side and watches as the trooper takes another quick glance around before he follows.

Crosshair removes his helmet as soon as the door is closed, uses his gloved hand to smooth his short hair down at his forehead as he tucks the bucket under his arm.

Mari watches quietly as he looks at her. She used to think she could read him but now? Now she’s a little lost by the look he’s giving her.

“You look-“

“Pregnant?” She finishes quickly and with a bite she regrets instantly.

“Beautiful.” He corrects, a hint of irritation flaring in his soft brown eyes. “Accept the compliment”

Mari can’t help the snort that leaves her mouth. She felt no where near beautiful as of late. She felt large, uncomfortable in her new skin.

She’d had a friend who managed the home of a junior senator and Mari had been able to charm the senator's partner during the interview. She cleaned their home now. Her hands were no longer soft and smooth. The harsh detergents left her skin dry and rough. Her nails fared far worse, no longer able to maintain polish or length, they were bare and short. Her hair, something she’d once taken so much pride in, hadn’t seen a salon in ages and the ends were split and a few strands of silver grey were beginning to pop up in the sea of inky black, standing out starkly. She kept it up in a modest braided bun most days. She hoarded her earned credits. She had something- someone else now who was going to need them and frivolities and upkeep, had taken a backseat.

“Kit- Omari, you look… you look like you do when I dream about you.” Crosshair’s voice is gentle. He steps closer and Mari plants her feet firmly to keep from moving back. Her breath hitches as she looks up at him. She won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he still affected her. She swears she won’t even though a little voice inside of her is begging for it.

“Why are you here Cross?”

“I’m not going to apologize about coming. I needed to see you.”

She feels her mouth fall open. She gapes after him. He needed to see her? After the way their last interaction had come to a head she’d thought she’d never see him again.

“Needed or wanted?”

“Why can’t it be both?” Humor plays in his words and she feels more at ease. This was a script they knew well, banter was their love language, but when he speaks again all playfulness is gone. He’s got his serious face on. “I said things last time, things I never should have said to you.”

“We both said things-“

“No” his voice is firm and Mari presses her lips on a tight line, “I never should have said what I said. Not for someone I ca- someone I hold as dear as you.”

His gloved hands fall down to hers and gather them in his grip. She can’t move. She can hardly breath as his thumbs stroke over the cool skin along the backs of her hands.

Her voice comes to her, quiet and stuttered “I appreciate…the apology.” She manages pulling her hands back. His jaw tightens as she steps away. Her hands tingle where he’s touched her and she brings them close to her chest without a thought. “Would you like to sit down?”

“It’s late” defeat is evident in his tone, “you probably need to sleep”

“Please,” the plea is soft. 

Maker, she’d missed him and now he’s here. As often as she’d been angry, had cursed his name to the sky above, right now she didn’t want to see him go. A small fluttering in her belly seems to agree and she lets a hand fall to the growing babe and run small soothing circles over the spot they’d kicked.

Crosshair watches with a veiled expression. “How is” he points to her belly with an awkwardness that makes her chuckle, “ _It_ going?”

“The _baby_ is doing well from what I’m told.” She offers “been getting active. Would you like to…” she trails off, patting her belly softly.

Crosshair's already pale complexion washes out further and Mari realizes for the first time what she’s seeing. He’s afraid. It stops her for a moment. She’d been scared often since she’d received the positive result. At times, it bordered terror. She was no product of a good mother. How was she expected to be one? How would she know what to do? The thought that maybe, just maybe Crosshair felt the same hadn’t occurred to her. 

It wouldn’t do.

She steps forward, takes his hand, and pulls him gently to her.

“I don’t know anything about how this works.” He tries to pull away but Mari leads him over her bed. He hesitates when she sinks down but follows her after a moment.

“It’s easy. You just lay your hand” she works to unclench his fingers than move his palm over her bump “right here”

He stares at where his hand lays. 

Nothing happens. 

His eyes wander, questioningly to hers and then he feels it. It’s almost comical the way his eyes widen, the way his fingers splay wider and follows the little pops around her abdomen.

“Kind of crazy, right?” She offers to his focused silence.

He grunts back and she smothers a smile. This was…nice.

“What is it like?” He finally asks, glancing up at her “I mean, this isn’t… clones aren’t created this way I understand the idea just-“

“You don’t have any actual experience with pregnant women.” She helps clarify and he nods slowly.

“I’m tired a lot” she starts, “and my feet ache after a long day. I crave things I never thought I’d crave-“

“Like?”

“Crushed ice. I can’t get enough of it” she yawns as she says it. “And smells bother me sometimes. It’s like my senses are cranked to 100 all the time, for better or worse.”

The marksman frowns as she yawns again, “get in bed, Kitten. I woke you up. You need your sleep.”

Mari shakes her head at the sudden end of their conversation, “No, I’m fine. You just got here…” she doesn’t know what she is trying to say. How was it possible to be so angry with someone and then be near tears with the thought of them leaving again?

“I can stay for a while more” he hesitates, “if that would make you happy?”

She bites her lip, nodding. The tightness in his frame seems to relax at that and he gestures for her to lay down. She moves slowly, discarding her robe and slipping under the covers. She can feel his eyes follow her.

“Will you lay with me?” She hates how small she sounds. She hates that she wants him after he hurt her. It was like falling in love with your executioner. The ending was always going to be the same.

Crosshair doesn’t answer, simply starts removing armor. Mari watches, memorizing the way he moved. How his fingers worked. The expression on his face. He only hesitates a second, as clad only in his blacks, he moves to slide under the covers next to her, encouraging her to roll on her side while he slides in behind her. Their bodies slot together like they always have, perfectly.

One arm slides under her head while the other hovers at her hip. She can already feel her eyes growing heavy. The rise and fall of his chest, the beating of his heart. 

“I don’t want to go to sleep” she whispers.

The stubble along his jaw tickles at her skin as his hand pushes her hair away from her face. “Go to sleep”. He orders gently. 

“Please don’t be a dream” she whispers as her eyes slide shut. She hadn’t realized how tired she truly was.

————-

While Mari sleeps Crosshair’s fingers slide from her hip and then back over the swell of her belly. He watches her. So resilient, so strong. Carrying his- he stops that train of thought. He wasn’t about to allow himself to believe that the child growing inside her was his. It was an impossibility. He was sure of it. 

Mostly

But if it wasn’t-

In the months since she’d told him he’s thought about it nonstop. Dreams of her, good and bad, haunted his sleep, what little he got. 

He’d tried to broach the subject with Tech a handful of times but had pulled back each time before even giving his vod the hint of what was going on. 

He’d come to one conclusion in all those sleepless nights. She was his, baby or no. If it was a package deal he would accept that. Just to know she was his. He would do nearly anything. The war couldn’t last forever and, if he made it out alive and the GAR set them loose in the world, he would spend the rest of his life finding a way to prove himself to her. And if the GAR didn’t let the free, well he’d come up with a Plan B than. 

She squirms in his arms, distracting him from his thoughts. The soft sound she makes is one that’s been burned into his brain. He hears it each time he takes himself in hand in the shower. She squirms again, this time pressing her bottom back against him. His body is on full alert now as she lets out a soft exclamation of his name. Blood flow is shifting and he feels confused at how he’d gone from worried she wouldn’t hear him out hours ago to this.

“Kitten” he shakes her softly with a hand on her hip. Mari mewls softly and Crosshair goes a bit lightheaded. “Kitten wake up” he encourages again.

She stiffens for a moment. He can feel the change in her breathing. He holds his own breath in.

“Crosshair? You’re still here?” her voice is adorably thick with sleep.

“I’ve got a few more hours” 

She makes a contented sound that has a smile sliding across his face as she relaxes back against him. 

“Were you having a good dream?” he asks lowly against the shell of her ear. 

“The best” she hums, “they usually are when I’m dreaming about you.”

“Is that so?”

“Don’t get cocky trooper” she chides sleepily, “it’s just the hormones. They make me extra-” she looks for the word “needy”.

“That’s a thing?” 

He’s had little to no experience with the ins and outs of pregnancy. While the basic biology of it is understood readily, he has no clue what happens from conception to birth. It hadn’t been high on the Kiminoan’s list of essential knowledge a clone should have.

HIs fingers trace simple shapes over her hip. The last thing he expected someone heavy with child to want was more of what caused the damage in the first place.

“Oh, is it.” she says dreamily “Touch me and find out”

Crosshair's hand freezes. Mari puffs out a frustrated breath.

“Please…I need it.” He can hear the frustration in her voice.

“I’m not gonna? _You know_?”

“No, you won’t hurt anything”

He can hear her eyes roll as her hand slides up to his and guides it down between her legs. He knows the drill from there. His fingers pull up the hem of her short nightgown and trace along her inner thigh.She’s still as soft as he remembers. He could touch her skin, worship it for hours, and still never get enough. Right now that isn’t what she needs, it isn’t what he needs, if he’s honest with himself. He wants. He wants every piece of her he can have, every piece she’s willing to gift him. He doesn’t care if they’ll regret in the morning. He just wants what’s now.

He doesn’t waste time, fingers slip under her panties and stroke along her sex, she’s wet, slick with arousal. Mari sighs out as he dips the tip of two fingers into her folds, wets them and traces up to the small bundle of nerves at the top of her slit. She adjusts to better accommodate him as he moves his fingers in slow lazy circles. Her hips rock back and he lets out a rough breath of his own as she presses into his own burgeoning want.

“Kriff…” he drags out lowly. The arm under her head curls until he’s able to run his fingers through her hair. It’s an awkward angle but he makes it work. She nearly purrs as his blunted nails drag against her scalp.

“Tell me you’ve thought of this.” she demands, leaning into his touch, circling her hips against the growing bulge in his blacks. Her smart fingers reach behind her and cup his length. He groans against her throat and mouths at the goosebumps that spring to life as he does. 

“All the time, Kitten.” he nips gently behind her ear and Mari shudders.

“Again” she begs softly. He doesn’t hesitate, his teeth scrape along her skin before sinking in until she cries out softly. His lips soothe over the tender skin. 

“Please, more" She offers up more of her neck to him, a long pale expanse of flesh that he’s salivated over for two years. 

“I’m going to leave marks" he’s not asking for permission this time, as he pulls her hips back against him. Mari whimpers.

“Yes, please, I need it.”

Crosshair goes to work, one hand working over her clit while the other angles her head to his liking. HIs always wanted this, to mark her up for everyone to see but she’s never given him the ok. Now, he wants to make up for lost time. Lips trail over her neck, push the strap of her nightgown away. He leaves marks as he goes, systematically marking a grid of love bites that will be with her for days to come. To remember him by.

By the times he’s done she’s panting heavily, barely able to hold still.

“What does my needy girl want?” He feels their old sense of playfulness coming back but it’s not just a game. There’s so much more to it now, something left unspoken, words too dangerous to let out into the world.

“Inside me.” she demands between pants, “Now, please"

He brushes her hand away from his crotch as he is quick to pick up his hips and pulls his blacks and briefs down. Her hand finds him again and strokes him in a jerky rhythm. Her thumb captures a bead precum leaking from his slit and uses it to smooth out her motions. He’s in heaven. 

“How do we do this?” he manages to grit out as her wrist twists on an upstroke. “Am I on top, are you… I don’t want to hurt you.”

Mari chokes out a laugh as his fingers slip from her clit and enter her in one smooth motion. “Just like this should work. I haven’t- I don’t have any experience in this but…”

“Shhh" he hushes as she groans, “we’re going to figure it out together.” 

Gently he wrangles her top leg up and over his own, while his fingers continue to open her up. The wet sounds her body makes as the digits fill her is like music to his ears. He’s forgotten how tightly her body gripped him and works her slowly to prepare her. Eventually, his fingers leave her cunt.She whines quietly. “Almost” he soothes as he takes his length in hand and guides it to her entrance, slowly pressing into her center. 

Mari sucks in a sharp breath and he slows. 

“Is this ok?”

“Perfect. More. Please.” 

He continues to press in deeper and deeper until his hips are tucked neatly against her body. Then he stops. He can feel his heart pounding in his ears. It’s the same exhilaration he feels before taking an impossible shot. The world narrows down to just the sensation of her in his arms, their breathing syncing together, the feelings radiating from her. She wiggles against him, circling her hips slowly. His mouth comes down to her shoulder and he bites the soft flesh he finds.

“Tell me, Omari, tell me what I want to hear.”

The woman in his arms gasps as he speaks against her skin.

“Tell me what I need to know.” he demands as she whines quietly. “Do it and I’ll give you what you want, what we both want.” His lips wrap around her skin and he sucks lightly at the darkening mark.

“I’m yours.” she chokes out, “Crosshair- Maker-'" she curses quietly, "i'm yours. always.”

Just hearing those words nearly sends him over the edge. His hips pull back before snapping forward dragging soft sounds from her. He does it again and again. She grabs his hand and moves it up to her breasts and he lavish each one, so much fuller then he remembers them, with attention. He twists and pinches through the fabric and she arches in his arms as he moves inside her. 

“I missed filling you up” he pants raggedly in her ear “You always take me so good. Am i giving you what you wanted, Kitten?” He growls as her body clamps down around him in response.

“Yes!” She bites out, her arm reaching behind her and scrabbling to pull at the short hairs along the nape of his neck. He can feel a familiar tingle building low in his spine as her nails scratch at him. 

“That’s right _cyare_ ” he encourages as he feels her body begin to go tight in his arms. The Mando’a term slips out without a second thought. All higher thought is lost to the pressing need to complete what they’ve started or die trying. “You’re almost there for me, aren’t you? You’re going to let me feel you come apart before I fill you up, yeah?”

Mari only whines as she meets each of his thrusts. He knows she’s close, trembling in his arms the way she is. His hand falls from her breasts and back to her clit. He times his thrusts with the quick circles his fingers make over the tiny bud.

“Cross… Cross…I…” her hand grips at his hair, almost painful. 

“Do it now.” He demands urgently as he mouths at her neck. She’s strung so tight, muscles taught, breathing ragged. He rubs roughly at her clit and she falls over the precipice with a strangled cry. 

The feeling is of her is overwhelming- white hot light, like he can feel her pleasure at the very core of his being, like he's one with her in the moment. He follows her a split second later, snarling out his own release as he empties himself inside her. The aftershocks of her pleasure working to milk him of every last drop.

“ _Cyare_ ” he pants softly as tiny tremors work their way through his body. He feels her breath hitch “ _ner cyar’ika_.”

Crosshair holds her tight, leaving no room for her to escape and no separation between them as he begins to soften inside her. 

——————

When Mari wakes her bed is empty. The spot where Crosshair had slept was cold and the blankets undisturbed. If it wasn’t for the pleasant soreness between her legs and the mug of water at the bedside she would have taken the whole thing for a dream. She feels the loss of him acutely as she slowly gets out of bed and curses him silently as she sees the pile of credits and a small flimsy-wrapped package on the lone table in the room. A sloppily written note sits next to it in hastily written aurebesh. 

_Kitten,_

_Shut up and take the credits. From me to you with no strings attached. For you and your baby._

_Crosshair._

She ignores the credits for the time being and picks up the package, tears away the brown flimsy wrapping. A small wooden box painted a garrish mix of red and blue opens to expose a moss green rock. It looks exactly like the one he’d given her before. The one from Yavin-4. The one that reminded him of her. It’s warm when she squeezes it in her hands, smooth and unyielding. Something is different though. She flips the flattened stone over and sees, carved in the surface, a series of numbers. She stares at them as if the answer to their meaning will come to her.

It doesn’t.

The baby kicks and Mari quickly packs the stone back into its box and sets it near the credits. She needed breakfast, the bathroom, and to get ready for work. If she succeeded in those three things she could pretend she was too busy to think about everything else that had happened until later.


	11. Chapter 11

It’s _quiet hours_. That’s what Hunter called it, the time when competitive banter and ribbing took a backseat to reflection. Time to regroup, a time to relax. It was decompression time post mission.

Crosshair is pretty sure the Sarge invented it just so he didn’t have to listen to Wrecker’s yap or Tech’s incessant chatter. 

He was good with it either way. 

Hunter was currently off with their new recruit and Rex in medical doing maker know what to the bionic clone while Wrecker had an important _meeting_ in the hanger bay. It left their barracks silent for everything but the tap of keys and the sound of firearms being serviced.

Crosshair sits on his rack, back pressed against the wall with _Sweetie_ and his DC-17 laid out in front of him. _Sweetie_ has already been taken apart, cleaned, polished, and adoringly reassembled. He begins to work on his blaster, it’s a new one since _Darling_ , his previous blaster, had found a new home and purpose. He was still learning the ins and outs of his new, unarmed partner. Of the two weapons the DC-17 arguably the easier of the two to maintain. He could do it blindfolded. He _has_ done it blindfolded but now he moves slowly, focuses on the moving pieces, the connections, the sound of the metal alloy sliding against itself. Hunter had his meditations and Crosshair liked to think of this as his way of finding center. Something to make his mind clear.

Or just anything to distract him from what he needed to do. 

He really should just holo Mari but he can’t. He’s sent her a care package; a blanket he’d bartered for at a village on Onderon after he’d seen a woman using a similar one to wrap her child in, one of his shirts because she once said she’d preferred sleeping in them, and _Darling_. He doesn’t care to think about what her reaction was to the blaster but as the sloppily scrawled flimsy note he’d sent along with it had explain, he needed to know she could protect herself. He’s been sending her his stipends also, at least the majority of them, because he needs her to not work herself to the bone. She was so tired the last time he’d seen her. She needed to be resting and going easy, not working her fingers to the bone. He knows Mari though and he knows she probably angrier than a wet Loth cat by this sudden need to look after her. She’s probably pissed and he doesn’t know how to explain himself. It was better if he just didn’t talk to her right now. it’s what he keeps telling himself. This is just easier. 

Tech is pacing the floor, keying in something on his vambrace mounted keyboard. Half a ration bar hangs, seemingly forgotten, out of the corner of his mouth. The little medic, _Ik’aad_ , had told him during post mission medical that he’d needed to eat more and while he’d barely spoken two words to her Crosshair had watched him pocket two extra rations from the mess earlier. 

The pacing wears on him though and he wishes Tech would just sit down and finish the stupid meal bar but he also knows at this point in their timeline if their engineer stops moving he’s going to crash. Post stim burnout was a bitch. Once that happened, Tech would be useless to anyone for at least the next six hours.

Crosshair’s slides to the edge of the bed. His boots hit the ground with a soft thud as he lays the blaster across his lap by his own account, he’d tried to have this discussion half a dozen times. He’d backed out each time. Now though, he couldn’t put it off any longer.

“Tech?”

The smaller clone doesn’t seem to hear him and Crosshair’s leg begins to bounce.

“Tech?” He gets a hum back but he needed his vod’s full attention.

“Sithspit” he curses lowly, picking up the pillow from his rack and heaving it. “Tech!”

The other clone stumbles as the pillow hits him in the temple. The ration bar falls to the ground.

“Real mature” he grumbles, adjusting his goggles and scooping the pillow from the ground before chucking it back. Crosshair catches it easily. 

Tech plucks the ration from where it fel and wipes weakly at the dirt sticking to it before he tosses it into the bin across the room with a sigh.

“It’s what you get for not finishing it already” Crosshair lectures.

“Thank you for that insight, Cross. Now is there a reason I’m suddenly without a meal?”

“I need your help.” It takes a lot for Crosshair to ask and the younger clone knows it. He stops his pacing.

“Ok. You have my attention.”

Crosshair sits frozen that was easier then he’d thought. He had half expected to need to beg, borrow, and steal to get what he needed. Even as close as he and Tech were, Crosshair still had trouble admitting there were things he wasn’t capable of-

Tech clear his throat, circles his hand in the air telling him to just get on with it already.

“Can you put a trace on a name? In the system?” It comes out in a quick rush.

Tech narrows his eyes as his arms come to rest across his chest.

“Ok, not _can_ _you_. How about _will you_? For me.”

Tech relaxes and offers and easy smile, “of course”

Crosshair breathes out a sigh-

“After you tell me why you need a person tracked.”

Because of course he wasn’t going to make it this simple on him.

“I have a friend-“

“You don’t have friends” his vod interrupts, a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth “you have brothers.”

Really? Crosshair pinches the bridge of his nose. Just once he’d like something to go smoothly. Fine, if Tech needed to know he’d tell him.

“I have a friend who is… _important_ to me and I need you to put a trace on her name.”

“A female friend?” Tech’s head cocks.

Crosshair feels his irritation began to rise, “yes”.

“And you need me to trace her because…”

_Because she’s pregnant and I think it’s probably my- but I’m not for sure but it doesn’t matter because she’s…_

“I just need it. She’s _important_ to me. Ok?”

“Ok”

He’s ready to argue some more as Tech grabs his holopad from his footlocker.

“That’s it?” He questions as his vod unceremoniously plops down on the bunk across from him.

Tech gives him a patronizing smile, “you’re my brother. If it is important to you it’s important to me.”

There’s that feeling again. The one that’s been sneaking up on him lately, wrapping itself around his heart and squeezing. He wasn’t fond of it but it was growing on him. He catches Tech’s eye.

“So what is your girlfriend’s name”

And just like that, between the question and the grin his vod is wearing the feeling is gone.

“Not my- her name is Omari Cean” he manages to grit out, jaw tight.

“How many times are you going to do that?” Tech asks.

“Do what?”

He looks up from his datapad and motions to the blaster in Crosshair’s hands. “You’ve taken it apart twice now.”

The marksman looks down and realizes he’s started dismantling it a third time. Tech doesn’t bother looking at him as he starts to reassemble it. Once he’s finished it again, Crosshair places it off to the side.

The sound of Tech’s fingers tapping away at the pad fill the room. 

“Coruscant, right?” Tech doesn’t allow him to to speak, “I assume that’s where you disappear too on leave? Makes all the sense on the world. Now…” he trails off.

“Now what?” The sniper leans forward his elbows on his knees.

“Coruscant is a big place. Over a trillion people last count. I need to narrow it down. Am I looking for guard reports?”

Crosshair bristles. “No you’re not looking for guard reports. What kind of-“

“I think she’s the kind of woman that got mixed up with you and I am entirely unsure of her mental and legal status because of it.”

Crosshair’s knee returns to bouncing as he sits up. Of course Tech was going to be a little shit about all of this. He can see by the twinkle in the other man’s eye that he’s enjoying riling him up. He tries not to take the bait.

“The hospital…” He rattles of the three closest to her place “I’m not sure which it’ll be. Something should pop up in the next few weeks.”

She has to be nearly there. She was some six months along when he’d last seen her and it had been over two since than.

Tech raises a brown and than turns back to the pad. His vod watches carefully as he works.

“You know you’re going to need to give me more of a reason why I’m doing this at some point.” He says still looking at the screen.

“Yeah, I know” Crosshair runs his hand back and forth over his head. “Tech?”

The clone looks up from the datapad.

“Thank you.”


	12. Chapter 12

“So as you can see here-“ Tech’s gloved hand points to the twisting strands that take up the screen like a nightmarish ladder, “Where the double helix connects at- this part, and- right here. See?”

Crosshair nods mutely trying to take in what the engineer is explaining. His body feels numb, like he’s taken a step out of it and it’s watching the whole scene on a holo. In a different language. The techno jargon and science lingo is going so far over his head it’s in the stratosphere.

“Crosshair? Are you ok?” Fixing his goggles, Tech turns in his chair. “You don’t look so good.”

As if cued Crosshair sinks into the desk chair next to him. He rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands. He knew this was coming. A simple time frame had given him a round about idea when Mari would be having the baby. He just- it was still a shock when after their last mission Tech had mentioned he’d gotten a _ping._

A ping. 

As simple as that the sniper felt himself spiraling.

Omari had the baby.

“I’m good. I’m good” he reassures, leaning onto his knees, “keep going.”

Tech gives him a questioning look because he certainly was not ok but he didn’t see the point in arguing with him. Best course of action was to finish explaining what he was seeing and give his brother some answers.

“So that is your sequencing” he continues to explain, punching some keys and pulling up another sample that floats on the screen next to the original. “Without the mother’s sample this would usually be more difficult as inheritance is a tricky thing _BUT_ like I was saying before, this little tweaky looking thing right here?”

Crosshair nods looking at the strange connection on his sample.

“This is 100% Kimoan intellectual property. Think of it as a brand to mark their work, like a signature on the bottom of ceramics-“

“Tech” Crosshair groans lowly, “please, let’s just get to the point”

The engineer nods, “so if we look over at sample B-“

“The baby’s sample” Crosshair clarifies.

“Yes, B is for baby, keep up.”

“What are you two studying so hard?” Hunter’s voice asks suddenly as the door slides open and Hunter, along with Echo and Wrecker, pile into the small space of their barracks.

Tech doesn’t miss a beat, “I’m just trying to tell Crosshair he’s a _buir_ ” 

The sound of a popper pin dropping would be deafening. Crosshair feels a wave of nausea and something more faint, more pleasant- _relief,_ wash over him. It’s short lived.

“His what?!” Wrecker’s voice booms. As he crowds into the pairs space looking at the dna samples on the screen. 

Echos brows skim his hairline as he glances from one newly adopted brother to the next.

Hunter’s eyes narrow as Crosshair looks at him. He looks away quickly and punches Tech in the shoulder, not hard enough to really hurt him but enough that the engineer rubs at it and gives him a sour look.

“Listen, If you thought I wasn’t going to let the other _ba’vodu_ know about the child you were sorely mistaken.”

“You’re going to be _sorely_ mistaken” the sniper grumbles without much fire behind the words. He’s still reeling. He was a _buir,_ a father. The thought is dizzying.

“Stay where you are Cross” Hunter orders knowingly. Any anger that may have been in his eyes cooling at the uncharacteristic look on the marksman’s face.

“Let’s see the little man!” Wrecker’s voice booms and the Sergeant shoots him a quieting look. Echo hangs back at the periphery and Hunter urges him forward with a shift of his head.

“ _She’s_ a girl” Tech corrects with a grin.

“A girl! You have a daughter!” Wrecker’s big meaty hand smacks against Crosshair’s back with such force that he makes an oomph of discomfort “well, where is the little biter? When do we get to see her?”

“Wrecker” Hunter hisses, “keep it down. This is sensitive information. Need to know only.” 

Wrecker looks chastened for a moment and then repeats he questions at a lower tone, “when do we get to see her?”

“for kriff’s sake…” Hunter manages to hide the roll of his eyes as he glances at Echo for support. The bionic clone holds up his hands.

“Not getting into this, sir.”

“Your part of this, now” the Sargent reminds.

“Last I checked I wasn’t involved with the making of any babies.” A grin rubs at the corner of Echos mouth as he moves closer to the other clones. He reaches out and gives Crosshair a gentle pat on the shoulder. The marksman’s head whips around. “Congratulations.”

Crosshair lets out a soft puff of air from between his lips, a nervous smile taking up residence on his face, “thanks, I think.”

“This is a remarkable thing” Tech begins, looking about the his gathered brothers, “it shouldn’t even be possible the Kiminoans-“

“Tech” the group turns back to the new buir. He’s still pale but his back is straight. He looks like a man on a mission, “Is there a picture of her?”

“Well, of course, for security reasons the medical facility takes a picture of all the infants a couple hours after birth.”

“He wants to see it, Tech” Hunter explains.

Wrecker is keen to be heard as well, “Me too!”

Tech looks sullen, having really been looking forward to discussing the implications of this new discovery but another part of him, a part that screams _i’m an uncle_ , has him quickly refocusing his attention back to his holopad. The DNA strands fall away as he plugs in information. It takes only a minute for him to pull up the first one. A collective breath travels through the group.

“Poor thing. She’s got her _buir’s_ scowl” Tech mutters sifting through more files.

Wrecker nods solemnly, “she’ll grow out of it”

Everyone studies the tiny bundled babe with rapt attention commenting on her round cheeks and furrowed brow. “It’s like she’s already disappointed with the world.” Echo murmurs to Hunter.

“Force help us if she has Cross’s attitude”

“Force help _him_ is more like it” Echo agrees, “I’m aiming for fun uncle”

Hunter chuckles and then glances at his uncharacteristically quiet sniper. His toothpick is hanging from his lower lip, long forgotten as his eyes trace over the image. Hunter grabs his arm and pulls him closer. Crosshair’s eyes never leave the babe.

“That’s a pretty little creature you helped make.” He says neutrally. Crosshair nods. “It’s an honor I don’t know if any clone has had. A lot of responsibility-“

The newly minted father shakes his head and focuses his gaze on his superior. “I understand what this all means” he keeps his voice pitched below the sound of the others chatter, “I’m going to take care of my girls.”

Hunter watches the set of the other man’s shoulders, hears the intent in his voice. He nods. “Good but you’re not in this alone.”

Crosshair raises a brow, “pretty sure you weren’t in the room when-“ Hunter’s unamused expression has him pressing his lips tight. His comment going unfinished.

“ _Aliit ori’shya tal’din_ ”

“Yeah, yeah” the sniper plucks the forgotten toothpick from his mouth and flips it between his fingers, “i _t’s more then blood_ and all that Mandolorian banthashit.”

“I’m serious Cross” Hunter pushes the subject, “you know we’ll be there for anything you and you-“

“Oh _damn_ son!” Wrecker’s voice interrupts the profound point Hunter is trying to make, “Is that your girlfriend?!”

Tech has flipped to a second picture and all eyes flick from the picture of Omari holding the baby to Crosshair.

Reaching behind Hunter, Echo manages to give the sniper another pat on the shoulder “I said it before but, congratulations.”

“I mean, I guess in some circles he could be considered handsome?” Tech looks at Crosshair assessingly.

Wrecker nods, “but I mean those have to be really tiny circles like” he points at the picture, “she’s got to be the only one that can fit in it.”

Crosshair is deaf to the jokes. His eyes are focused solely on Mari, his Mari, sitting in the bed in a white gown holding his child. And he wasn’t there. Something uncomfortable seizes in his chest. Had she been scared? Had she hurt? Were they safe? A million questions filter through his mind as his brothers slowly come to the realization that he’s not listening to them.

“Cross?” It’s Tech’s voice that finally breaks through to him, “they were sent home three days ago. You could use the holo?”

“You haven’t talked to her yet?” It’s Wrecker’s incredulous voice that asks, “if I had a looker like that-“

“Well you don’t” Crosshair snaps waspishly turning to his over exuberant brother. Wrecker gives him a skeptical look.

Hunter sees the building tension in the set of his sniper’s shoulders, his stiff posture and the flash of uncertainty behind his eyes. He never would have thought a situation like this would have been possible. Supposedly they’d been engineered without the ability to produce offspring. Sterility was a cruel fate for clones still clinging to their progenitor’s people’s need for clan and family. Having brothers, _vode_ , was one thing but Hunter knew the feeling of yearning for more. The yearning for family, for clan and children. For a life after war.

Now, one of their own, likely the least prepared for fatherhood, had managed the impossible. The tiny rounded cheeks, smattering is soft hair and puckered lips greeting them on the holo were living proof that even what they all believed to be impossible could be within reach.

“That’s it” the Sargent announces his voice sharp and his command beyond question, “everyone out!”

The sound of grumbling can be heard from Wrecker as he and Echo leave, shoulder to shoulder. Tech looks at his holo but doesn’t move to grab it as Hunter gives him a quick shake of his head. The sniper gives him a questioning look when he steps in front of the door.

“Not you. We’ve got a conversation that needs to be had.”

“I figured you were going to say that.” Shoulders slump as he moves back into the room and sits in front of the holo. His eyes scan the new face, memorizing the fine details of his daughter’s face before letting his eyes trail to her mother. She looked tired but also, something else he’s never seen before. She looks serene. Fine lines pull at the corner of her eyes as she smiles, her dark hair framing her face. He feels like he’s intruding on a moment he has no right to see. The things he’s said when she’s tried to tell him, the excuses he’d found not to continually reach out to her, all of it compounded into a feeling of disgust that roiled and ate at him.

“Crosshair?”

His eyes move up to the Sargent. He realizes he doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at the image and he quickly moves to close it out.

“Sorry”

The apology goes unacknowledged as Hunter sits down across from his marksman. The pair mirror one another, resting their elbows on their knees.

“Were you going to tell us?”

The question makes Crosshair feel nearly as bad as the holoimages had. “I don’t know what I was planning on doing. I hadn’t figured it out myself yet.”

Hunter nods, “you realize the responsibility-“

A raised hand cuts him off, “do you all think I’m an idiot? That I haven’t thought about this- about her- them since I learned it could even be a possibility?”

“We wouldn’t know though would we- well Tech would- but the rest of us? We’re your brothers. And that woman…”

“Mari” Crosshair offers chastened.

“Mari and that baby, your daughter? They are our family, our responsibility to protect and care for almost as much as they are yours.”

Crosshairs head hangs down, he pulls in deep slow breaths because, yeah, he hasn’t even contemplated the way this news would affect his brothers. If the reactions of Wrecker and Tech were anything to go off he’d missed a very important point. Hunter sighs.

“When did you last speak with her?” There was no use in making him feel worse. It’s written across his face. Now was the time to lead and support.

“I saw her last time we stepped in Coruscant.” He catches the Sargent’s raised brow.

“And nothing since?”

“I sent her a flimsy- and some credits and… stuff” it sounds weak in his own ears.

“You’ve got a half-hour, a holo, and an empty barracks.” Hunter informs, rising to his full height, “my suggestion is you correct your shortsighted decision.”

———

The greedy sounds of nursing infant fill the single room apartment. Mari looks down softly at her daughter. Calla complains in a series of tiny grunts as her mother switches her from one breast to the other. She’s always hungry, only seeming to be content when she’s nursing or held close after a feeding. Mari has never been more in love with anything or anybody in her life. 

She’d often worried and wondered what she’d feel when her child would be placed in her arms. Before the birth, she hadn’t felt some deep bond to the little being that grew inside her but when the obstetric droid had placed the naked, squalling babe in her arms for the first time she’d nearly cried. The feeling so overwhelming and intense that it had threatened to overcome her. From the moment her eyes had locked with her daughters she’d known that she would do anything, give up everything to love and protect her.

Coming home had been a learning experience. She had to balance Calla’s needs with allowing herself to heal. She was tired, body exhausted in a way that felt like even the marrow in her bones had been used up.

The sound of the holo ringing startles her. She hasn’t had visitors nor has she had many well wishers calling. She reaches across the bed, attempting not to dislodge the infant falling asleep as her breast.

Crosshair’s image springs to life as she leans back, too tired to smother the surprise that flashes across her features. She hasn’t seen the sniper since… she thinks back on the last few months and realizes how long it’s actually been. She’s gotten his simple missive and his gifts and the credits of course but none of it was what she had really wanted, what she had really needed-

“Hey Kitten” The soothing rasp of his words is offset by the obvious anxiety lacing them. 

“Crosshair” Mari greets. At a complete loss for words, she waits. She watches him, eyes seemingly search her as if he’s in the same position. He breaks first. 

“I heard- you had the baby.”

Pulling in a steadying breath Mari readjusts the holo camera, widening the frame to show off the tiny bundle of blankets. She glances down and hears the marksman’s ragged exhale.

“That’s- we- _we did that_?” She can hear the same awe tinging his voice that she had felt the first time the baby girl had let out a cry. Mari can’t help the small, tired smile that pulls at her lips. She’d known the moment she found out she was pregnant that the child was the clones. There had never been any questions in her mind or her heart. To hear him say we, to claim ownership, had moisture forming at the corner of her eyes. She wipes weakly and Crosshair frowns. 

“Mari… Kitten, don’t cry. I’m sorry. I know I’m not who you would have chosen. I’ve been banthashit through this whole thing but-”

“Shut up.” she says with no heat in her voice. She chokes through a small laugh “Crosshair, shut up. It’s hormones. I’m fine” she lies and he doesn’t call her on it. She’s thankful. 

He nods slowly, proceeding carefully as if she were live ordinance he wasn’t sure how to handle. “Ok. Did you get my package?”

Mari huffs out a sound as she reaches out of frame and grabs the DC-17 from her drawer. “This?”

Crosshair nods again, “I need to know you’d be safe. Both of you. The credits too. I’ll send more-”

“Do you want to know more about your daughter?” She asks the question she knows he’s afraid to ask. He looks relieved for her mercy as he nods. “What do you want to know?”

Chuckling nervously he rocks forward, hands propped on his knees, “Everything. I want to know if you were scared? How big is she? Is she giving you a hard time. What is it like?” He rubs a hand over his forehead, “What did you name her?”

“Her name is Calla.”

“Calla…” he tries the name out softly, saying it a second time to hear the way it sounds. He’s right, with the gentle gravel of his voice it sounds perfect. “it’s beautiful. Is she- is she healthy?”

The fear in his voice is palpable. It’s something she never thought she’d hear. “She’s so strong, Cross. Loudest lungs in the hospital. Ten fingers and ten toes. And always hungry.” as if on command Calla’s suction like grip to her mother’s breast comes loose with an almost audible pop and her head lolls back. Mari nestles the milk drunk infant closer and Crosshair laughs a real laugh that warms and comforts any frayed nerves she may have had. “She’s not the biggest baby but you’d never know it. She’s got your attitude already.”

“Sexy and aloof?”

Mari can’t help the peel of laughter that escapes her lips startling Calla awake. The baby blinks grumpily as her mother readjusts her to face the camera. “ _Needy_ is more like it.” she murmurs down at the babe “Alright grumpy girl. Take a look at your Daddy.” she encourages as the baby gives a gummy yawn and begins to fall back asleep, a dribble of milk catching at the corner of her mouth. 

“Daddy…” he tests out the word like he’d tested out her name just moments ago.

“Is that ok?”

“It’s perfect.”


End file.
